


one thing consists of consistence

by destieltrash (orphan_account)



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Gen, Sad Josh, and tyler obv, corporate josh, idek what this is, tyler's ukulele
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5583214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/destieltrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ukulele Guy is always, always at the corner of 74th and Atlantic.</p><p>Until one day, he isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one thing consists of consistence

It's fucking Monday again. 

Josh is irritated by this. As usual, he has an existential crisis on the bus ride to work: what am I doing with my life? Why am I doing it? Am I happy? Why don't I quit my job?

He knows the answers to all these questions, but he's drained from the sheer blandness of his life, so he doesn't bother to fix these problems. 

The existential crisis, as always, ends neatly just as Josh gets off the bus. 

As he leaves, he tugs absentmindedly at his hair, which is combed neatly back. He doesn't like it like this. He used to dye it pink, green, red, every color he could think of. Josh remembers in high school when he played drums and swore he'd never be part of corporate America. He snorts softly, straightens his tie, and heads out into the bustling street. 

Josh hears a ukulele playing, and he knows it's from the corner of 74th Street and Atlantic Avenue. There's always a ukulele playing on the corner of 74th and Atlantic. 

Josh walks past a woman in an ugly pantsuit just in time to hear the man holding the ukulele belt, "-and we'll make money selling your hair!"

Ukulele Guy is at that street corner every morning faithfully, as if he doesn't know everything from his ukulele to his words are unwelcome in such a place as this, among such people like Josh. 

Mr. Dun, now. Joshua if they're really friendly. 

"But I don't care what's in your hair, I just want to know what's on your mind," the guy sings, strumming his tiny guitar cheerfully. 

Josh slows his steps, his white-knuckle grip on his briefcase loosening slightly. This is the next part of his morning ritual. Slow down in front of Ukulele Guy. 

Josh could swear the guy looks at him at the next line. 

"I used to say I want to die before I'm old, but because of you I might think twice!" Someone drops a dollar into the ukulele case and the guy smiles brightly at the donor before continuing. 

Josh is another block away before the guy's merry shouts are out of earshot. 

Like every morning, the memory of the song keeps Josh's heart light for a couple hours.

Boring drudgery until five o’clock, no later, and Josh practically runs out of the office building. 

He walks back to the bus stop (Ukulele Guy is never there on Josh’s way home, and Josh tells himself he doesn't care). He’s home by five-thirty.

Josh’s apartment is big and empty. There’s a drum set in the hall closet, but it's dusty and unused. The liquor cabinet is well stocked, though, so Josh thinks it's all good. 

He watches TV and sometimes he calls his sister or any one of the people he knows. But Pete and Patrick and all those guys are busy, are breaking off and away from the old group. Ashley has refused to speak to him since he, as she put it, “sold his soul for a flat screen and expensive booze.” Debby, well, she's gone. She's not coming back. 

Sitting in front of HBO with expensive Scotch on a Monday evening, Josh completes his daily ritual.

“God, I am so fucking lonely,” he says out loud.

Josh finishes the bottle by ten. Nice and drunk, Josh watches three more hours of TV before falling asleep on a huge bed with more space than he needs. 

Josh is awake by seven, and he drags himself out of bed for a predictable Tuesday. 

He wears a different suit, although it looks the same as yesterday’s. 

Josh eats corn flakes for breakfast. He has them with skim milk, which he hates.

He gets on the bus and braces himself for the impact of today’s bout of misery. It doesn't keep him waiting. 

It hits him like a freight train, and he's suddenly sweaty and shaking and thinking wildly that he hates his job and he hates his apartment and his bed and his flat screen and his expensive booze and God, he was stupid for thinking he'd be happy after Debby and Ashley left him, and let's be honest, his friends from school are never going to call him back. 

Josh sits heavily on a seat, pressing a sweaty forehead against the window. He wants to scream. 

He means to whisper, “I hate my life,” but it comes out as “I hate myself.”

But it's okay. The bus stops on 72nd Street and Josh gets off, calm and repressing all his self hatred for the day. 

Ukulele Guy is at his post. Josh can see him from here. It starts to rain. Josh figures that's why the street is emptier than usual today. Watching the weather report in the morning is for people who care about… anything. 

Ukulele Guy is not happy today. He’s practically hitting the strings on the ukulele, almost screaming the words. 

“I'm never what I like! I'm double sided and I just can't hide! I kind of like it when I make you cry! Cause I'm twisted up, yeah, I'm twisted up, inside my mind!”

Josh slows down, because, like every day, the song is hitting something inside himself he didn't know existed anymore. 

Ukulele Guy looks up at Josh, and Josh expects to see fury there after such an angry performance, but there’s only an awful sadness. 

A small smile tugs at the man’s lips and he runs a gentle hand over the ukulele, as if apologizing for the harsh treatment. Josh’s eyes track the movement for reasons that he's decided not to understand. 

Josh doesn't stay long enough to hear the next song. 

That one verse, though, takes up his thoughts all day. 

Josh stays in his office all day, because he's a grown ass man, and he needs a place to sulk. 

So what if his boss gets pissed? The worst the evil woman can do is keep his job safe. 

His boss notices and tells him he’s earned a day of slacking off. 

Josh smiles and thanks her. 

He goes home at five. 

“I'm never what I like,” Josh murmurs. He orders pizza on Seamless and turns on the TV. He stares blankly at the screen. “I'm double sided-” he leaves the pizza untouched on the table. “-and I just can't hide.” He doesn't call his sister. “I kind of like it when I make you cry.” He falls asleep with the last line on the tip of his tongue. 

It's not until he wakes up for Wednesday that he realizes he didn't drink last night. 

Josh shrugs. 

He heads to work. 

Endures the bus ride. 

Josh begins listening to Ukulele Guy halfway through a verse. 

“The windowsill looks really nice, right?  
You think twice about your life, it probably happens at night, right?  
Fight it!  
Take the pain, ignite it!  
Tie a noose around your mind, loosen up to breathe fine and tie it  
To a tree, tell it you belong to me, this ain't a noose this is a leash,  
And I have news for you, you must obey me.”

Ukulele Guy continues to sing, and Josh continues to walk, as if he hasn't just heard the most beautiful thing that has ever saved a life. 

The next day is Thursday. Which is fine. Not as good as Friday. But better than other days. 

Josh doesn't hate the bus ride. 

He gets off the bus, ears pricked for Ukulele Guy.

He's met with footsteps on concrete, car horns in traffic, city sounds. 

No music. 

Josh doesn't walk faster or slower than usual to get to 74th and Atlantic.

The bench is occupied by a homeless man begging for pennies. 

Josh continues on his way, as if he's not panicking. 

Josh drinks two bottles that night. Friday kicks off with a hangover and Ukulele Guy is still absent. 

Saturday, Josh throws away his drums. 

Josh ties a noose on Sunday, and then he throws it away with his drums. 

It's fucking Monday again. 

Ukulele Guy is not there. 

Josh never talked to him. Josh continues working like nothing is wrong. 

But of course, everything is wrong. 

And now Ukulele Guy is not there. 

And Josh never talked to him, but he thought…

Nothing. He thought nothing. 

The safety is off, and Josh is not being careful anymore.


End file.
